Hooped #2 (The Hooped Interracial Romance Series #2) (6 page)

But throughout the game, Devon kept glancing in my
direction. He grinned, his eyes glimmering every time he looked up. I couldn’t
help feeling a little flutter in my heart every time.
You're
so
stupid,
I told myself, shaking my head.
Maybe he’s just looking at everyone in this section.
I glanced
around. There were at least a dozen girls who were every bit as pretty as I was
right in the same section.
Either that or
he’s just buttering you up to get you to take his side when he talks to you
afterward.
I tried to keep myself firm, keep from giving into his
charms—but I found myself becoming giddier, more excited to talk to him after
the game, in spite of the little voice in the back of my head that told me I
might run into the same situation I had before.
Surely he’s not that
stupid,
I told myself.
He’s obviously not going
to just make out with some girl when he knows I’m going to be right there.

Chapter
Seven

If I had been less distracted by Devon and the fact
that I was going to meet with him after the game, I probably would have been
able to pay more attention to the game itself; even though my mind froze every
time he looked at me, though, what I did see was exciting in its own right.
If he fucks this up, I am still not giving
up on basketball,
I told myself firmly. The team we were up against was a
strong one; like ours, they had a star player—someone who was definitely enough
to give Devon a run for his money. I watched as the ball went from one end of
the court to the other, with the defensive players shifting around, the offense
moving to steal. For the whole first quarter of the game, it was even—we would
score and then they would score.

In the second quarter, Devon managed to get the team
ahead by three baskets, and I saw the two coaches settling in for a battle;
this was going to be a hell of a game—even if I couldn’t pay enough attention
to it to really make it worth the price of my ticket, I was so distracted by
Devon. He moved like a pro already,
quick
on his feet,
focused whenever he wasn’t glancing in my direction. Miles—his
second-in-command on the team—was on his A game as well, snatching the ball
away, passing quickly. It was hot and heavy, almost no baskets scored in the
quarter, and my heart was pounding almost as much from the energy in the crowd
as it was because of Devon’s attention.

During
halftime
,
I couldn’t even pay attention to the cheerleaders and the bands as they did
their routine. I was thinking of Devon, sitting in the locker room, cooling
off, catching his breath. I wondered what the two teams’ coaches would do in
the second half; but I was more concerned with the possibility of Devon getting
injured, or something happening that would keep him from talking to me after
the game. It was also only too easy to let my mind wander to thoughts of Devon
taking a shower afterward. I shivered in my seat, feeling the rush of heat at
the memory of how he looked naked.
I am
not going to have sex with him. I am just going to hear him out and decide what
I want to do.

The game heated up in the third quarter; Devon ran out
onto the court and beamed at me, and I laughed even as I hoped that he would be
able to at least focus enough to keep scoring. I watched as the team upped the
offensive game, stealing the ball, scoring quickly, and counting on speed and
baskets to keep them ahead instead of counting on the defense to stop the other
team. By the fourth quarter of the game, though, the coach shifted again; we
were fifteen points ahead, thanks to Devon and Miles. As long as the other team
didn’t get any points, we were the undisputed winners.

I waited for the furor in the crowd to die down,
waited until I saw the team go into the lockers from the
court
before I left my seat. My heart was
pounding in my chest the whole time, my whole body vibrating with excitement. I
didn’t want to make it too obvious what I was doing—even though I saw more than
a few basketball bunnies hanging out near the locker room entrance, waiting for
a chance to talk to one of the players in general and Devon in particular.
Everyone wanted to talk to Devon; every girl wanted to be with him.
If you believe what he said,
I thought
as I waited,
then he wants you. If you
believe him.

Devon came out of the locker room quickly, spotting me
the moment he was through the door. He’d taken a shower—and for a moment I
flashed
at
the thought of him naked once
more—and he smiled as he made a beeline towards me, ignoring all of the girls
who fought for his attention. “Hey, you stayed!” he said, grinning even more
broadly.

“I agreed to, didn’t I?” I shrugged. Devon laughed and
put his arm around my shoulders.

“So, what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” I
rolled my eyes.

“Really, that’s your conversation opener?” Devon
shrugged.

“I figured it was a good one. Do you want to ride with
me or meet me there?” I considered the question. If I rode by myself in my car,
then I would be able to leave whenever I wanted. “Or we could walk,” Devon
pointed out. “It’s not that far.”

“Let’s walk,” I suggested.

I was surprised that Devon didn’t bring up the topic
of what was going on between us all the way to the ice cream shop; he asked
about my day, asked about my classes, and what I thought of the game. I felt
myself starting to relax and tried to stop it—after all, I was supposed to just
be letting him speak his piece, not letting him get underneath my skin, charm
me again. If I gave him too much leeway, I was sure he was just going to get me
just as blind as I had been before.

When we arrived at the shop, he stopped and flashed me
the most charming smile he had. “Now you really do have to tell me what your
favorite flavor is,” he told me, gesturing to the case. “Because how else am I
going to get it for you if you don’t?” I laughed.

“It’s strawberry,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Two
strawberries
,”
Devon said to the employee. “Make ‘
em
both doubles,
in a waffle bowl.” I was surprised that there weren’t more people at the ice
cream shop; the tables outside were nearly empty. Devon collected our ice
creams and paid, and I followed him out onto the terrace, feeling my heart
beating faster.

“Did you get strawberry because you like it,” I asked,
eyeing him as I sat down, “Or because you wanted to look good in front of me?”
Devon shrugged.

“It’s not my favorite, but I like it.” I rolled my
eyes at him again.

“You should have gotten what you wanted!” Devon
shrugged again, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I want what you want,” he told me, taking a huge bite
of his ice cream.
 
I shook my head,
breaking off a piece of the waffle bowl and taking a bite of it.

“Okay,” I said slowly, digging into my ice cream even
as my cheeks started to burn with a blush. “So we need to talk before we figure
out what…” I looked up. “What this is, or whatever.” My cheeks got redder.

“So what did I do wrong? Was it falling asleep? Not
getting your number?” I worried at my bottom lip, swallowing the tightness in
my throat.

“It wasn’t… it wasn’t anything you did that night,” I
said. “I just have heard a lot of things about you since that happened…” I
shrugged.

“What kind of things?” Devon
asked,
though there was a look in his eyes that suggested to me
that he probably had a good idea.

“That you’re a player,” I said flatly. “You—you sleep
around with girls, you do whatever it takes to convince them to have sex with
you,
and then you drop them. That…that you even
egg girls on and try and get them to fight over you.” Devon’s lips
twisted,
and he looked away for a moment. He
brought a spoonful of ice cream to his mouth and sucked on it.

“It’s true—or at least it was,” he said quietly. “I
have to be straight with you if I want a chance, right?”

“I’m not promising you have a chance,” I said. Devon
smiled.

“But if I lied to you, then it wouldn’t make it any
better, would it?” I shook my head. “Yeah, I have a reputation for a reason.”

“So why should I trust you?” I took another bite of my
ice cream, gulping it down. “I mean—if you admit that you’re a player, that
you’re just looking to rack up the numbers…” Devon plunged his spoon into the
melting ice cream and looked at me levelly.

“I admit that I was the worst kind of guy in the
frat,” he said. “Was. I didn’t know what I was
doing;
I was just
having
a good time.” He held
my gaze. “But I really like you.”

“That’s what guys always say,” I pointed out, smiling
wryly.

“I do. And because I really like you, and I really
want to have a chance to be with you—not just get laid, but actually date you—I
know I can’t do that. You deserve respect. If you give me a chance, I swear I’m
not going to run around on you.”

“How many girls have you said that to?” I raised an eyebrow.
Devon grinned.

“None, actually.” He held my gaze. “Because I never
wanted to be with someone—not like this. It’s only ever been you.” I took
another bite of my ice cream, ignoring the little tingle in the roof of my
mouth that told me that if I didn’t slow down, I was going to get brain-freeze.

“That’s not all,” I said slowly. I swallowed, setting
my ice cream aside for a moment. “There’s also the fact that…” I took a deep
breath. My heart was pounding. “The last game, I went over to the lockers to talk
to you. I wanted to get your side of
things
after I heard so many people talking shit.” Devon nodded.

“I didn’t see you—did something happen?” I stared at
him.

“I turned the corner and you were kissing some girl,
less than twenty-four hours after you took my virginity!” I somehow managed to
keep my voice low, in spite of the frustration I felt. Devon’s eyes widened.

“Shit. Oh, my god—of
course
you saw that. If you were going aro
und to talk
to me after the game. S
hit, Jenny, you have it all wrong.”

“Don’t call me Jenny,” I said quickly. “And what do
you mean I have it all wrong? Was it someone other than you kissing—whoever
that was?” Devon shook his head.

“No, it was me, but I wasn’t kissing her; she was
kissing me.” I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, come on; that’s the oldest excuse in the book.”
Devon reached across the table and grabbed at my hands.

“I’m serious. Look: listen to me, just hear me out.” I
exhaled, sitting back slightly in my
chair
and looked at him silently for a long moment.

“Go on.”

“So I came out of the locker rooms, and this girl was
waiting for me,” Devon said. “I know her okay, but I’m not seeing her or
anything. She says hello, I say hi back, and the next thing I know she’s
grabbing me and has her tongue down my throat.” I bit my bottom lip, not
certain whether I could—or even wanted to—believe him. “I pushed her away—you
must have already seen it and left by then. I swear, Jenn. I was so shocked at
what she’d done that I didn’t react or stop her, but I did push her away.” I
held his gaze for a long moment; he had seemed so alarmed when I mentioned the
kiss—but that could have been because he hadn’t thought I would see it. “I
didn’t even know anyone was there; she just grabbed me and started kissing me.”

“I want to believe you,” I said, giving him a sad
little smile. “Not—not only because…” I shook my head. “I want to believe you.”

“If I
was really
a player,” Devon said, leaning in closer to me, “would I be going to this much
trouble to convince you?” he held my gaze. “Come on, Jenn. I’m really into you.
I want to get to know you better. And we had a good time, didn’t we? I swear to
you I am telling the truth.” I hesitated for a moment longer.

“Okay,” I said, smiling in spite of my worry. “Fine,
yes, I’ll believe you.” Devon’s worried expression dissolved into a smile.

“Finish your ice cream before it melts, huh?” I
laughed and dug back into it. “This isn’t half bad for strawberry.”

“You said you like strawberry!”

“I do like
it;
it’s just not my favorite.”

“What is your favorite?”

“Fudge swirl.”

Chapter
Eight

Devon and I ate our ice cream and talked about
everything and nothing. It worried me that I still didn’t know whether or not I
should believe him; but I had at least gotten his side of the story, and I had
to believe that he was genuinely interested in me.
A guy who goes out of his way to track you down, to keep trying to find
out what he did wrong, has to at least be a little bit interested in you,
I
thought. I began to relax, laughing as Devon joked, feeling more and more
comfortable and confident.

“So it’s actually a good thing you left when you did,”
Devon told me, about the night we had first gotten together.

“Oh really? Why is that?” Devon grinned.